


It Must Have Been the Roses

by Moontyger



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra thought her dream about Leliana was born of a guilty conscience.  But afterward, she couldn't stop thinking about her, or fail to notice how their lives were intertwined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Must Have Been the Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbitdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/gifts).



The view from Skyhold's battlements was breathtaking and never more so than at sunset, when the sky blazed with color: scarlet and orange and purple so bright Cassandra would find them gaudy in any other venue. Now, however, she found them simply appropriate, for romance was the order of the day and what could be more romantic? 

It was cold up there, or at least it should be, but she couldn't feel it; the warmth of the body pressed against her: arms around her waist and lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sending tingles up her spine, was the only temperature in her world right now. As Cassandra took one of her lover's hands and raised it to her lips, she thought she smelled roses, their fragrance heavy with a summer's day in lands far south of here. 

She turned then, dissatisfied with kissing only a hand, and smiled down at Leliana, whose usual cold expression had vanished. Instead she smiled back, blue eyes alight with love, happier than Cassandra had ever seen her. As Cassandra kissed her, the scent of roses enveloped them and somewhere she thought she heard the sound of wings.

Cassandra opened her eyes to the first faint gray hints of dawn in her window – not enough yet to illuminate the room, but enough for years of habit to wake her. The dream was already fading, but the image of Leliana smiling at her lingered. In retrospect, it was funny that she'd never really thought much about the fact that she never saw Leliana smile until she dreamed about it.

But that, she told herself as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair vigorously, massaging her scalp to wake herself up, was the only thing her dream had to tell her. Dreams meant little – or at least _her_ dreams meant little – and there was no reason to read more into it. This one was likely the product of a late night reading Varric's latest book combined with concerns about Leliana that she hadn't been letting herself acknowledge.

Purposefully, she set the dream aside and stood, stretching her arms over her head and twisting side to side to get her blood flowing and loosen any kinks from an uneasy night. Satisfied that she was as ready for the day as she could get, she she started her morning routine. As always, this would be a busy day for the Inquisition, with little time for such idle fancies as dwelling on dreams and their meaning.

* * *

The Skyhold chantry was small, sometimes even cramped, but it was quiet and the air smelled just like every chantry Cassandra had ever been to, each one redolent of candles and incense in the exact same scent, no matter where they might be. It was familiar, more truly a home to her than anywhere she'd ever lived, and she felt at peace as she knelt before the statue of Andraste. 

Cassandra had it to herself and she let herself relax into silent contemplation. She'd spent so much time lost in it during Seeker training that she simply didn't feel like herself if she went too long without it, her mind refusing to settle if she kept herself focused on action for too long and failed to take time for herself. Thus occupied, she couldn't say how much time had passed before she heard the door open behind her and knew she was no longer alone.

“I'm sorry; I hadn't realized anyone was in here. I can go, if you'd rather be alone.”

Cassandra's shoulders tensed when she recognized Leliana's voice, but there was no good reason for it, so she tried to force herself to relax. Yes, she'd dreamed of her, but this was merely a coincidence. “It's fine. Please, come join me.”

Leliana knelt beside her without further quibbling, close enough to touch if Cassandra stretched out her hand, but only just. There was nothing strange about this situation; Cassandra had always known they were both devout. In truth, it was more strange that they had encountered each other here so rarely. Yet she still felt unsettled, overly conscious of the other woman's closeness in a way she hadn't been before.

She couldn't relax, so at last she spoke. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“Oh?” Leliana glanced over at her curiously. “I cannot think why. Have you done something I don't know about?”

“I don't think anyone here can do anything you don't know about,” Cassandra pointed out, but she smiled a little to take the sting out of the words. “My apology was for what I haven't done. I should have come to speak with you and I haven't.”

“You owe me no apology for that.”

“Perhaps I do not. But I know that you and I are the ones who miss her most.”

Silence then, stretched long like a late afternoon shadow, until Cassandra wondered if Leliana would reply. When she did, her tone had changed, her usual bitterness on full display. “You mean because here we sit, the Left Hand and the Right, but the Divine who guided us is gone.”

Cassandra's reply was simple, unadorned truth. “Yes. We did not often work together, but I know you loved her, too.”

Leliana did her the courtesy of answering in the same fashion. “I miss her every day.”

Cassandra turned to look at her, but Leliana's expression was unreadable, as it so often was. “We both do.”

“You did not need to apologize, but you know where I am. If you wish to come see me, I won't turn you away.” Leliana got to her feet and turned toward the door. “And now I believe it is time I returned. I'm expecting an agent to report in tonight.”

Cassandra watched her go, noting the grace of Leliana's stride in a way that she couldn't quite explain, then attempted to return to her meditation. The was no good reason for it - she'd had worse interruptions before - but her peace of mind refused to return. The solitude that had seemed so pleasant now felt peculiarly lonely, conspicuously empty of the presence that had initially felt like an intrusion but now, even after so brief an exchange, seemed not only welcome, but desired.

* * *

“Did you know?” Cassandra demanded, slamming an armored fist down on Leliana's desk. Documents fell to the floor in an untidy scatter and books bounced, their landing a second, quieter echo of the noise she'd made. “Did you know about the Seekers?”

Leliana shook her head. “No. How could I? To learn a secret, it must be spoken of, and this one was not.”

“Did Justinia know?” Cassandra's voice was thick and her throat burned; her rage and sense of betrayal so great that it felt hard to breathe.

“I doubt it. Most Seekers hated her and her reforms and of course she had never been one. You were a Seeker yourself and didn't know; why would she?”

“She was Divine!” Cassandra wasn't sure which appalled her more: that Justinia could have known the truth and kept it from her, or that the Seekers were keeping secrets from the head of the church they swore to serve.

“If she'd known, she wouldn't have been looking for a way to reverse Tranquility. She'd already know it.”

It was a good point, good enough that Cassandra stopped shouting, though she still stood with fists clenched at her sides and she still struggled to breathe evenly.

Leliana's touch was light, just a hand on Cassandra's upper arm, but it was also unexpected enough that her anger wavered in her surprise. “I know it doesn't help much. I know what it is to be betrayed.”

“I thought I did, too.” But she thought she'd left that behind her when she'd joined the Seekers, or at least, that it wouldn't be a betrayal of this sort: not of her alone, but of all those who over the centuries had become Templars and been consumed by lyrium addiction, a tragedy that had been entirely unnecessary. Cassandra had worked for Justinia, so she'd heard of the abuses, the terrible things that Templars had done to the mages in their care. She wasn't blind to the faults of the Order. But her heart ached for them nonetheless.

“Come, I know where the wine is kept and a quiet place to drink it together. I think you could use a distraction. Tomorrow is soon enough to think about what to do now that you know.”

Leliana slipped her hand into Cassandra's, taking it and leading her as though she were a child. Her hand was warm and her grip strong; if Cassandra had ever forgotten that the Inquisition's spymaster was a capable fighter herself, the way Leliana gripped her hand would have reminded her. Normally, it was the sort of thing Cassandra would protest, but tonight, with the foundations of her world shaken, she felt lost enough that she let herself be led, taking comfort in even this small touch instead of being offended by it.

* * *

“I can't believe this!” Leliana paced the rookery, her footsteps so fast that Cassandra thought she might fall. “Justinia said she had left something for me. But do you know what it was?” She whirled on Cassandra, her expression accusing enough that Cassandra regretted having come up here without her armor.

“I don't know,” she said, hands held up placatingly. “She never told me anything about it.”

“She released me from her service! Everything I did for her – everything I _became_ for her – and she thought I could just walk away?”

“You can,” Cassandra pointed out. “We're all here because we chose to be.”

Leliana shook her head. “You don't know,” she said, so much darkness in her voice that Cassandra suddenly knew there might be more truth to Sister Nightingale's reputation than she had ever credited. “You don't know what I did for her. You never wanted to know.”

“No,” Cassandra admitted. “But I'll listen, if you want to tell me.”

Comforting had never come naturally to Cassandra. It wasn't something she'd received much of in her life and she felt the lack whenever she was expected to give it. She didn't know what to say and her every action felt forced. But however awkward she felt holding someone while they cried - however much _more_ awkward it felt now, holding someone capable of so much ruthlessness – she did her best with it just the same. Whatever Leliana had done, she had done it for the same woman and the same goals as Cassandra, and that meant in the end, they were both responsible. How could she turn her back on her now?

Cassandra held her close, closing her eyes and lowering her own head so that it almost rested on top of Leliana's. Like this, she could smell Leliana's hair, scented with Chantry incense and blood and, underneath, something faintly floral. She felt a sudden urge to kiss her, to act on the dream she had never quite managed to shake. It made no sense, and even if it had, this was hardly the time, and yet she only barely stopped herself from acting on it, turning her movement into an awkward kiss on the top of Leliana's head before she pulled away and left the rookery without explanation, her pace something that wasn't quite a run, yet was far faster than anything that called be called walking.

* * *

The door to Cassandra's room was well-oiled and nearly silent, but “nearly” was enough that it couldn't open without waking her. She kept her eyes mostly closed, and slowly lowered her hand to her weapon, waiting for the intentions of the one who opened it to become clear.

They shut the door, but stayed by it rather than approaching. Cassandra forced herself to continue to breathe evenly while she waited for her intruder to make a move, though she couldn't keep her hand from tightening on the hilt of the sword until her fingers ached.

“I'll leave if you want me to,” Leliana whispered, and Cassandra relaxed. Perhaps she should be afraid, but while she knew Leliana ordered assassinations, she didn't think she was here to kill her. “I saw the way you were looking at me and I thought you meant it as an invitation.”

She hadn't, or at least not consciously. She'd had dreams, even occasional idle fancies, but Cassandra had not gotten so far as to be able to put them into words, even to herself. She should say that, should tell Leliana that she wasn't ready, but now that Leliana was here, Cassandra found she couldn't send her away. “Don't go,” she whispered back, then had to clear her throat before she continued. “Come over here and join me.”

Her bed was small, especially for two people, but Cassandra was certain they'd make do.


End file.
